


Dress Up

by Soaring_through_the_stars



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cops, Corruption, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Highway patrol, Homophobia, I accidentally made this super sad I'm sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jodie "Joe" Foster is a highway cop, Non-Graphic Violence, Police, Racism, This was spawned in hell when I imagined the dads in dresses and I found I liked Jodie, but not for long, hey buddy (derogatory), this is a redemption/fix-it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:08:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29741985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soaring_through_the_stars/pseuds/Soaring_through_the_stars
Summary: When Jodie was forced to drop out of college due to unforeseen circumstances he, uh, definitely didn't see himself ending up here.Are all rookie highway patrolmen forced to wear a dress by police captains, or is he just special?Thank god he just turned 21, because he needs a drink.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 8
Collections: Good Cop Bad Cop





	1. Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> I have a very vague outline for this fic and zero writing talent ✨

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jodie's backstory (or at least some of it) is revealed, and oh my gosh plot occurs!

This is not what Jodie signed up for when he became a cop.

Well, he never really wanted to become a highway patrolman in the first place. He was excelling in college, top of his class in psychiatry and about to specify in child psychiatry, premed and all that jazz, quintessentially the opposite of ending up as a 21-year-old in the police force. His chances for medical school and possibly a doctorate were high.

And then his parents died.

And then his parents died, and then he dropped out. He had left his friends behind to go to the school of his dreams, had focused so hard on his studies he hadn’t made many new friends, and now he had nothing. Nothing and no one. He had to go home and settle everything, sell the house, arrange a funeral, bury his only living relatives.

By the time he got back, it had been weeks.

His professors were understanding, of course they were, willing to give him time to make up the work, to perform his best again. But he couldn't.

The stress was too much.

He hadn’t had time to grieve, to mourn for his parents when he was running around doing everything. It hit as soon as he got back to school, and his grades plummeted.

Without a scholarship, he couldn’t keep going there, the cost was astronomical, and Jodie could not even think about using the money left from his parents’ estate, minimal though it was.

Living in a shitty apartment, scraping by on rent, the open highway patrol position seemed too good to be true.

He had to pass background checks, of course he did, and some athletics checks, but other than that he just had to be 21 with a high school diploma.

It paid better than any of the other jobs he could have gotten, and so of course he chose it.

The training and camps were difficult but not very long, and so he found himself getting paid to watch an empty highway for hours. It’s boring, but he can still look over his old textbooks and he actually had enough money to actually eat. Honestly, it was worth it.

Well, it _was_ worth it, until this call came in.

Almost forgot about that, huh?

When Jodie is called into the nearest precinct for the first time, he thinks he did something wrong. Even though he has followed the rules to the letter, done everything he is supposed to do, there can be no other explanation for why the youngest, newest person on the police force is getting called into the station.

Taking a slow inhale, Jodie straightens his tie, pulls down his sleeves, and walks in to his imminent doom.

Ok, so _maybe_ he’s being dramatic, but come on. He’s 21, he can have this.

“Hello sir, I’m Jodie Foster, I got called in?” The receptionist’s stare seems to trace Jodie up and down, boring into his eyes and soul and finding him wanting. “Captain Johnson said he wanted to meet with me.”

“Oh, it’s _you_ ,” the receptionist laughs. “I didn’t think you’d be so eager. Let me lead you to him, he told me to let you up as soon as you arrived.” He stands up and strides ahead, Jodie only keeping up through virtue of the receptionist— _Dylan_ , Jodie sees on his nametag—having to maneuver around his desk.

“What do you mean you didn’t think I’d be ‘eager’? Do you know why I’m here? All I was told was that I was needed.”

“Oh _buddy_ , there is no way I’m ruining the surprise now, you’ll just have to see for yourself.” With that, Dylan knocks on the door to an office and swings it open, gesturing Jodie inside before closing it again.

The office is unoccupied, a cluttered desk centered, with a single chair facing it and a couch behind the chair. Contemplating where to sit, Jodie barely begins to approach the chair when the door swings open again, three men in their thirties walking in and sitting on the couch while the apparent captain sits behind the desk.

“Don’t just stand there, son, take a seat,” the captain says, gesturing at the chair. Jodie sits down, trying his best to ignore the prickling on the back of his head, but his neck is getting sweaty anyway.

“You called me here, sir?” Snickering from behind him is almost overwhelming, and Jodie’s hands are in fists on his lap.

Johnson guffaws, slapping his legs. “Oh, we’ve got a polite one, haven’t we boys?” The answering yeses are uncomfortably close, and Jodie turns his head to see that the three officers are now standing behind his chair, almost surrounding him.

What is going on? Why is everyone acting like this? Jodie knows that he’s just a brand-new highway patrolman, but that doesn’t explain the giggling, the intimidation, the overall lack of respect he is being shown.

“You’re a new cop so you need to go through an initiation, of sorts. We have a case here that none of our detectives have the expertise for accomplishing, nor can any of out beat cops do it. But you, you fit the bill perfectly. Plus, you’ll get some hands-on experience you never would normally. So, what do you say to helping us out here, pal?”

Jodie looks at the Captain, trepidation present in the scrunch of his brow and the way his shoulders hunch away from the detectives surrounding him. He knows this is a trap, their behavior practically screams it, but there’s no way for him to get out of this. Nothing that will let him keep his job, at least.

Clearing his throat, Jodie straightens as much as he is able and replies, “Yeah, I’ll do it. I appreciate the opportunity for experience and to be able to work with detectives.” He stops, but Johnson and the other officers continue to look at him expectantly. “And, uh, might I ask what the assignment is going to entail?”

The Captain’s smile sharpens.

Jodie hopes he’ll survive this experience as intact as possible.


	2. It's a Hard Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jodie contemplates the plan told to him, and his own feelings in the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter became exceedingly sad on accident, poor Jodie. I didn't mean to give him such a sad backstory, it just happened. There is a mention of child abuse as well as hazing, racism, bullying, and homophobia.

Jodie replaces the tape in the label maker as it runs out, staring critically at the newly labeled pantry. It’s a ritual he does every time he goes shopping, applying and removing labels as he fits everything onto his shelves.

If he’s doing it more carefully than usual, arranging and rearranging boxes and packets multiple times over so that it fits perfectly, taking as much time as humanly possible doing this one task? No, it’s totally not how he deals with stress, don’t look at the impeccably clean apartment behind him and the empty bottles of cleaning solution in the trash can.

He’s not avoiding thinking about what happened yesterday, he’s _not_ , but it might play, slightly, into why there hasn’t been a quiet moment in the house yet.

Though his eyes rove over and over the shelves, he can’t find any mistakes or room for improvement. There’s nothing more he can do here, nothing more to stave off just sitting around. Jodie glances at the clock, the bags under his eyes pronounced and dark.

4 a.m. At least, he thinks it says 4, the blurring of his eyes making it just on the difficult side of reading, even with his contacts in.

Jodie accepts the inevitable and goes to shower at least before he passes out.

He turns the water hot, not to the point of burning but a small adjustment to the left might do it. He lays his clothes in the laundry basket, stepping in and just standing there, letting the heat relax away the stress and embarrassment and humiliation of the day, before quickly cleaning himself off and stepping right back out.

He just started making enough money to survive, an exceedingly high water bill would kill him.

Taking out his contacts reverted the world to blurry shapes and spreads of color, softer than the sharp edges of clarity.

Unfortunately, the opposite happens with his thoughts.

Laying in bed, staring at the stupid glow-in-the-dark stars he taped up there when he first got the apartment—or the green blurs he actually sees—he can’t stop thinking. Not going to bed isn’t because he didn’t want to fall asleep, but rather because Jodie knows his insomnia loves when he’s like this.

When he knows things are wrong but can’t do anything about it, when the world is crashing down around him, but it’s just not visible yet, he can’t do anything to prepare or try to stop it. No one else can see it, but he feels it there right on the cusp of tragedy.

Jodie’s always been helpless.

Jodie’s always been helpless since he was small, from when his uncle hits him across the face when he is babysitting and makes him promise not to tell his parents. He says it is one of the neighborhood kids, and even though his uncle never touches him again, he never ceases to make him feel small.

Jodie’s always been helpless since middle school, from when his classmates squint their eyes at him and gag at his lunches, never letting him near their pets. Saying words he doesn’t understand until he asks his parents and they cry. He didn’t understand so he didn’t care, but now he knows what they mean, how the other kids see him. He feels inferior.

Jodie’s always been helpless since high school, from when people ask where he came from and get mad when he says his address or the hospital down the road where he was born. When he joins the basketball team and he and the other freshman are thrown naked and shivering into the locker room. When academic success comes hand in hand with being forced to complete other people’s homework or not being able to see for a week through the swelling. He feels used.

Jodie’s always been helpless since his first job, from when customers scream at him and all he can do is stand there and take it. When he is forced to work unpaid overtime and lying in bed at night is agony as his muscles protest being overworked. When insomnia and exhaustion send him to the hospital, and his manager calls him to ask him if he can take a shift tomorrow. When he applies for a job he is overqualified for, and his rejection comes hand in hand with the acceptance of the owner’s son. He feels inadequate.

College is the first place he doesn’t feel helpless. There are endless classes to choose from, clubs to join and enjoy. As an adult, he has the ability to defend himself, yet he doesn’t have to do so. He has agency, a diverse community around him, freedom. Self-respect.

Friends might not be numerous, but he only leaves behind casual friends anyway. High grades are going to get him into medical school, and the cycle of poverty is going to be broken. He’s going to be successful.

Heh, as if that’s actually possible.

He fulfills everyone’s expectations, becoming a failure of a college dropout, enlisting to a job where academics aren’t really prevalent.

A job that makes him feel helpless once again.

Listening to the Captain describe the case, using slur adjacent terms, only the thought of what would happen if he lost his jobs keeps him from denying it outright, but it’s close.

He would laugh at the complete ignorance, if only he wasn’t the one directly affected by it.

The police need to infiltrate an LGBTQ+ space. The reasons are unknown because all he is told is his own role in the farce. To wear a dress and act loving toward another cop so they could get in and find whatever information they need.

Do they not realize that these examples of stereotyping and hard support of perceived gender roles in non-heterosexual relationships is both unnecessarily complicated and disgustingly bigoted?

It would be so easy for a single person to just walk in there and just hang out. No fake relationships, no forcing him into an uncomfortable situation, simply a person living their lives and enjoying a nice café.

Jodie knows that, realistically, the police knew they could do that.

Jodie also knows about countless instances of people in positions of power using that power to humiliate others.

It just so happens that he is the victim, this time. He’s been the victim many times, he should be used to it. He should be desensitized and let it roll off of his skin.

His studies tell him otherwise, that his feelings are valid, but he can’t listen to himself in this case.

Regardless of his knowledge or feelings or thoughts, none of that helps the nightmares that plague his sleep until morning and haunt his waking hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Please give me comments, kudos, just interact with me so I can base all of my self-esteem from public gratification ❤


End file.
